The minute her feet hit the sand, Dahlia felt the day had a renewed purpose. She flung off her swimsuit and ran back up to the house in nothing but a towel, meeting Harry halfway. Therewas something about being naked that made her feel young and free. She eyed the outside shower and wondered if it still worked. There was only one way to find out. The heavy wood door opened with a squeak. She closed her eyes in prayer and turned the knob. The steady spray hitting the weathered wall was music to her ears. Upon second glance, it was a bit dirty but not too bad. Dahlia let the water run, hoping it would get hot while she grabbed some toiletries.
Upon returning to the small unit, she threw the towel over the rusted fish-shaped hook that was a permanent fixture on the wall. After checking the temperature, she planted herself right under the aged copper spout. She soaked in every bit of warmth her chilled body would allow. The water rushed over her hair, down her back, and over her chest. The brine from the bay just thirty feet away infiltrated the tight space. She buried her face in the water, letting it cascade down her bare form. It felt healing, precisely what she needed before she got her hands dirty in Lil’s garden.
Hands. The word lodged in her brain and anchored there. Which led to Noah, of course. Soon enough, her imagination began to wander. The image of his gorgeous, Greek-like hands caressing her naked skin played in her mind. Her body flooded with warmth and tingles that traveled south. Then she imagined her fingers tracing the well-defined lines of his abs and his delicious V of tight muscles just above his length.No, no, this can’t happen. I have work to do, and men are a big fat mistake right now.With that, Dahlia flipped the water to cold, hoping it would douse the unyielding heat in her core and the remnants of her body’s betrayal.
A short while later, after she was dry and dressed, Dahlia found herself standing at the entrance of Lil’s garden with a shovel and clippers in hand. The thorny roses overhead were wild, and the weeds were taller than the blooms. She wiped the sweat from her forehead. This job was going to be bigger than a day’s worth ofwork, of that she was certain. Harry tilted his head and barked as if he was now aware of the magnitude of bucket list item number eleven.
Dahlia stepped up into the first large raised bed. “This looks like a good place to start. I’ll need to dig some of the perennials up if the rest have any chance of surviving,” she mumbled.
Harry barked louder.
“No, not you, Harry. No digging.”
The soil at Lil’s had a distinct smell; it was an earthy sea medley. A breeze carried from the water, drying her moist body as she pulled large clumps. Motorboats quickly sabotaged the peaceful summer mood, and the heat was almost too much to bear. She ran to the shed to grab the wheelbarrow. Each time she wiped her forehead, she could feel the soil stain her face. She fixed her hat and went back to work.
With a hand on her hip, Dahlia scanned the garden. The roses would need too much work, and the dahlias hadn’t started to bloom but were close. It was a true miracle that they’d even come up this year considering the tubers were never dug up and stored last summer. The violets were crowding the zinnias, so she started there while Harry rolled in the dirt. The violets were thick, but Dahlia kept jabbing, trying her best to lift the roots. The humidity weighed the air, and she knew once the afternoon hit, it would be unbearable. Just as she was about to call it a day, she hit something hard and hollow.
That was odd. She hit it again, only to hear her phone ring inside the shed. Yanking off her gloves, she rushed to look. It was her girl. She swiftly accepted the FaceTime. “Daisy!”
“Hi, Mom.”
“You’re a sight for sore eyes. Gah, I miss you, baby girl,” Dahlia said, walking toward the house, taking in her bright appearance. “What time is it there?” Aside from last summer, Daisy wastypically with Dahlia for her summer visits to Southold. But ever since arriving at the College of Charleston, Daisy had wanted this summer abroad in France. Dahlia swore that when she became her mother, she would never hold her back from seeking adventure. She wanted things for her daughter that she’d never had the chance to experience herself. Like the many vacations Spence had promised but was always too busy for.
“Just after six.”
“I’ll never get used to this time difference. And when I do, you’ll be home,” Dahlia said with a wistful tone, missing her something fierce. “Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a few days.”
“Everything is good. The weather’s been great, and we’ve hit the beach almost every day.” Daisy let out a contented sigh. “More importantly, how are you? I see you’ve been gardening?”
“It’s that obvious, huh?” Dahlia said, wiping her face with a wet towel. “I’m … good.” Dahlia debated for a split second whether to share the particulars of the critter invasion, how empty the house felt, and the letter, but decided to keep it light. Worrying Daisy was not something she needed to do. “Enough about me. You look pretty; where are you going?” And she did in her floral dress, blonde hair tucked behind her ear, and glossy lips.
“To dinner. Come on, Mom. Give me something, so I know you’re okay. How about tonight? Any plans? Fireworks in town, maybe?” Daisy asked with a broad, hopeful smile.
“Of course I’m okay. I’m back in Southold, my favorite place on earth, remember?”
“But you’re also alone,” Daisy said, furrowing her brows in concern like she was the mother this time.
“I’m good, Dais, really. There’s nothing to worry about here.” Dahlia leaned against the counter as if it would ease her longing heart. At that moment, she wished she could travel back in time toa summer when everyone was still together. “And as for tonight, I’m not quite sure. I’ll probably cozy up with a book on the porch.”
“That sounds … eventful.”
“It is to me. When you get to be my age, you’ll think so too.”
“Mom, you’re thirty-eight. Stop acting like a Golden Girl.”
“God, we loved that show, didn’t we?” Dahlia gazed inward. “Anyway, now it’s time for me to worry—who are you going out with? The girls from school?” She pulled the lemonade from the cooler. She needed to get more ice if there was any chance of the food not spoiling.
“No, with Pop’s first cousin’s daughter.”
“Oh. You found a relative of his? That was fast. Does she live in La Rochelle?”
“Yeah, I went to the village hall and found a registry. Her name is Eloise Laurent. I didn’t want to tell you unless I was fairly certain.”
“You know his last name is very common,” Dahlia said, not wanting her to get her hopes up. Finding her grandfather’s lineage had been proven to be an arduous task in the past, but Daisy was determined. When she heard about the exchange program to her grandfather’s hometown during orientation, she was immediately sold on the idea. Ever since the family-tree assignment during middle school, she was obsessed with putting the pieces of the past together.
“Yes, she confirmed some particulars, like his parents’ names, military rank, oh, and his birthmark. That can’t be a coincidence. I have a good feeling about her, Mom. She’s bringing pictures too.”
“Fair enough. Please have one of your sorority sisters go with you.”
